


home is where the elder gods are

by valenstyne



Category: Cthulhu Mythos - H. P. Lovecraft, LOVECRAFT H. P. - Works
Genre: Domestic Fluff, F/M, Gen, Plotless Nonsense, Silly, Slice of Life, kind of a parody? maybe?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-17
Updated: 2015-09-17
Packaged: 2018-04-21 06:29:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 415
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4818659
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/valenstyne/pseuds/valenstyne
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A few brief moments in the day of a totally normal family.</p>
            </blockquote>





	home is where the elder gods are

**Author's Note:**

> I think I wrote this originally in a comment thread on [Weeping Cock](weepingcock.livejournal.com) ages ago. So there's that. Otherwise, I have no excuse.

“Ooh, a shoggoth’s gonna get you!” Esther Campbell cried as she pursued her smaller brother Henry around the dining room table. “A shoggoth’s gonna get you! I’m a shoggoth and I’m gonna eat you all up!” Laughing, the children raced into the parlor.

“Esther,” Miriam Campbell said patiently, not looking up from the grimoire open on her lap as her son and daughter darted around the sofa where she sat, “I’ve told you, shoggoths live mostly _underwater_. Surely your brother has more to fear from a Nightgaunt or one of the Alskali—particularly if he doesn’t pick up his room before supper, Henry.”

“Yes, Mother,” Henry called over his shoulder, still dodging his sister’s grasp as the pair dashed down the hallway, Esther now growling her best impression of a Nightgaunt.

Miriam marked her page in the book, an elderly, battered volume bound in some peculiar sort of leather with the title _The Book of Eibon_ embossed in gold on the front, and set it on the coffee table, next to a sheet of notebook paper covered in scribbles of half-translated spells and a portion of a sonnet written in no Earthly language. She stood and stretched, glancing past the original Pickman painting that hung in pride of place on the wall to the ornate grandfather clock in the corner of the room: half past five. Richard would be home from the university soon. She made a mental note to ask him to stop by the butcher’s tomorrow and pick up a few pounds of whatever was cheapest—the Star-spawn in the pond in the backyard needed feeding, and it would be such a shame if it tried to eat one of the neighbor’s children again.

From Henry’s room came an exclamation of “Iä! Shub-Niggurath!” Miriam sighed; evidently her son was still trying to coerce the Dark Young into helping him pick up his toys. Well, he’d learn sooner or later that the Elder Gods were not in the habit of playing housekeeper. Not that it wouldn’t make life a bit easier if they were, she mused. 

The front door opened, and Richard’s cheery “I’m home!” rang through the house. Esther and Henry came running through the room again, chorussing “Daddy!” and Miriam, smiling, followed them into the entryway. Richard, holding Henry in one arm and hugging Esther with the other, turned to beam at her. 

Miriam kissed him on the cheek. “Welcome home,” she said.

He sighed contentedly. “Ah, normalcy. Thank Azathoth it’s Friday.”


End file.
